


Mary Sue versus Draugluin

by MaureenLycaon



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Other, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaureenLycaon/pseuds/MaureenLycaon
Summary: Well, when you're a Dark Lord who tends to turn his surroundings into a barren wasteland, you have to feed your troops *somehow* . . .
Kudos: 6





	Mary Sue versus Draugluin

**Author's Note:**

> (Copyright disclaimer: Middle-earth and its inhabitants, including Draugluin, belong to the Tolkien estate. Only the interpretation and the individual words belong to me ((and the character of Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear, but who'd want her?)). No infringement intended, only nasty humor and a poke at Mary Suvians who abuse the master's work for their ego trips.
> 
> Authored by Maureen Lycaon, January 2003. Thanks to Tyellas, who beta'd.)

"Human female in Cell Block 42D, Level 3, sir -- she's asking for _you."_

"This had better not be a joke, Lieutenant Whitemuzzle," said the Sire of Werewolves. Whitemuzzle flinched, his tail dipping between his legs. "Did she say what her name is?"

"She did, sir. It sounds sort of like Sindarin -- but it's a bit off, if you know what I mean, sir. It's 'Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear'."

Unable to conceal his skepticism, Draugluin studied his subordinate closely, but Whitemuzzle's face was deadpan as could be.

"Well, well, well," Draugluin muttered, more to himself than to the lieutenant. "You'd better bring her here to my office."

The lieutenant saluted quickly (lacking hands, werewolves saluted with their tail and a head bob) and departed.

Draugluin settled down again on the stony floor of the cavern that functioned as his office. As he waited, he mused and chewed quietly on the end of his current favorite bone, an Elven femur -- a habit he had while thinking. (The original owner's other remains lay scattered decoratively about the floor.)

_They just keep on coming. Wonder who this one is after -- Finrod? Maedhros? And why does she want to see_ me? _Well, I'll find out._

As she sat in her cell, Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear tossed her head to shake the stray strands of ankle-length fiery-red hair out of her lovely amethyst eyes. She could have used her magic powers to unlock the door of her cell in a moment, of course, but she wanted to conceal the secret of her powers until she had need of them.

Her ankle-length green silk dress was getting a bit soiled from dragging on the floor of her cell. Oh, well, there'd be time to magic it clean later.

In reality, of course, she was not Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear, but Betty Jo Waterhouse. One month ago, Betty Jo had discovered the Extreme Middle-Earth Mavericks Fanfiction website, a website exclusively for writers who wanted to escape the surly bonds of canon. You had to have at least three stories on fanfiction.net that had received nasty reviews by those snotty Tolkien purists. Betty had no less than ten stories, and the opening chapter of her latest tale of romance between Legolas and her own alter-ego, the lovely and courageous Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear, had garnered no less than 129 flames within two weeks of its being uploaded, so she'd qualified.

Then, to her delight, she'd discovered that there was more to Middle-earth than **Lord of the Rings** and **The Hobbit** \-- there was a whole other book, **The Silmarillion**! The Middle-Earth Mavericks site even had a cheat sheet of the plot and characters, so she was spared the trouble of actually reading it.

The moment Betty Jo read of Draugluin the werewolf, she knew she'd found her soul mate. The thought of a poor, handsome, noble masculine spirit held in bondage to the evil Sauron just made her heart ache. Inspired, she began writing yet another story of Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear and how she braved the Isle of Werewolves to free her true love from the power of the Dark Lord.

Then she discovered the secret part of the site. That was where she'd found the magic spell.

She cast the spell, and now she was the mighty Elven sorceress, Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear -- in Middle-earth, in the First Age.

She'd chosen to land near the Isle of Werewolves, of course. She'd also let herself be captured by Sauron's troops patrolling the area and be taken to the Dark Lord's stronghold.

Her first glimpse of those troops had been a shock. It wasn't the full moon -- but they were werewolves, all right. They looked even scarier than the werewolves in the horror movies did. Their eyes smoldered redly; their fangs were longer than her fingers; their fur was dark, matted, tangled, and really smelly; and their breath was even smellier. Plus, they were huge -- the size of ponies.

Still, she was a brave Elven sorceress, so she refused to show her fear. She demanded that they take her to Draugluin. Instead, after forcing her to come with them to the fortress, they turned her over to some ugly orcs, who dragged her down a shadowy stone corridor lined with stout ironbound wooden doors. Though she could have called upon her mighty powers of magic to destroy them and free herself, she did not. They were taking her to where she wanted to go, and she didn't want them to know of her powers . . . yet.

Instead, she told the orcs in her most imperious voice, "I wish to see your master, Draugluin! Take me to him."

They snickered, exposing gnarled yellow teeth, and did not answer. One of them shoved her in the back to get her moving again. She struggled to hold her spitfire temper before she could give herself away as something other than a mere Elven princess.

Though she couldn't see what lay beyond the doors, she could hear voices calling behind some of them, voices that sounded like the lyrical voices of female Elves. Most asked plaintively to be let out as the orcs stomped by, but to her astonishment she heard one petulant voice demanding to see a lawyer.

This, Celandrenialinnefar realized, was a big opportunity. Not only would she rescue an enchained soul from his bondage, but she also had the chance to set free all these poor prisoners. She'd be a great and famous Elven heroine afterward. Maybe she could even found her own kingdom.

The orcs paid no attention to any of the voices. Instead, they marched her to a door that looked no different from any of the others, unlocked it, and shoved her inside. "Inside" proved to be an empty cell, like a jail cell but even smaller.

Then the door thudded closed, and she heard it being locked. Orcish footsteps receded back up the corridor.

Now, as she waited in her cell, she thought over what she would say to Draugluin, how she would convince him that she could really set him free.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of huge paws and heavy feet padding toward her cell. Moments later, an orc unlocked and opened the door, walked in, and seized her by one wrist. Reminding herself to act compliant and scared, she let him drag her out into the corridor.

Two huge werewolves stood there, waiting for her. Red eyes glared at her, as if trying to assess just how dangerous she was. (If she had been able to read their minds, she'd have realized they were really just trying to assess how crazy she was.)

"Come with us, Elven harlot," one snarled.

Even after that gross insult, Celandrenialinnefar managed to hold on to her temper. _Got to conceal my powers, got to conceal my powers . . ._ She went with the werewolves without question, through endless tunnels and up three flights of stairs, proudly refusing to look either right or left. Besides, the one time she did, the werewolves snarled at her.

Finally, they herded her into a great dark cavern, lit only by a single torch on one wall. She could only see that rough stone wall; everything else was lost in the darkness. The stench was godawful -- but having never smelled rotting meat before, Celandrenialinnefar didn't know what it was.

Two great ruby eyes flickered in the gloom, higher than a horse's head, approaching slowly. For the first time, Celandrenialinnefar felt something like real fear as she realized that their owner must be nearly twice as big as the two werewolves who had accompanied her.

When Draugluin stepped forward into the light of the torch, he confirmed her realization. He was indeed twice as big, and twice as ugly, as the werewolf guards. His breath could have gagged a maggot.

Even when he lay down in front of her, his head was well above hers.

"Well," he growled in a voice like thunder, as the two smaller wolves stepped back. "You wished to see me?"

"Y-yes, Lord Draugluin." Collecting her courage, Celandrenialinnefar launched into her shpiel. "I have a message of extreme importance for you. But I _must_ speak it to you alone." She gave the werewolf on her right a nervous sideways glance.

To her surprise and relief, Draugluin simply nodded. "Leave us," he ordered the two lesser wolves. Without another word, each one bowed its head and departed, leaving her alone with the Sire of Werewolves. He turned back to her. "Now, what was this 'message'?"

Regaining more of her confidence by the moment, Celandrenialinnefar Goldenear drew herself up to her full height, though she still couldn't reach eye level with the colossal wolf.

"I have come to free you from your curse, Lord Draugluin!" she announced grandly.

The giant werewolf stared at her, eyes widening. "Set _me_ free? You're not here for Finrod Felagund or Maedhros?"

"No, my lord," she proclaimed, putting all the magic and enchantment that she could into her melodic voice. "I came to rescue you. No longer need you run the night as a savage beast of prey. I can restore you to your true form!"

Draugluin's red eyes widened. He clapped a paw the size of a tabletop over his muzzle, but a sound escaped anyway. Celandrenialinnefar thought it might have been a sob; his shoulders were shaking, anyway. _Poor man,_ she thought, _he's overcome at the very thought of escaping his bondage._

After a moment, the werewolf recovered, putting his paw down.

"My true form? And just what do you suppose that might be?"

It was worse than she had thought. Not only had Sauron's magic forced him to be a wolf all the time, not just during the full moon, but it had made him forget he was ever anything else! Recovering herself quickly, she began to improvise.

"Do you not understand, my lord? You are lost inside a terrible spell! Let me free you from it!"

She had expected suspicion, disbelief, perhaps even anger -- anything but what she got, which was a burst of loud, barking laughter. Draugluin's eyes fairly danced as his whole body shook with mirth, and it took him a few moments to stop laughing.

This was not going quite as she'd expected. Still, she pushed on. "Once, you were a man. Well, an Elven man, anyway, okay?" forgetting to use the proper flowery language. "I can turn you back into what you once were."

The werewolf appeared to have regained control of himself; his face was deadpan now. "So, you think I'm really a man, trapped in wolf form?" he rumbled.

"Yes!" The Elven princess stretched out both hands to him in the most elegant gesture she could think of. "At least let me try to free you."

Draugluin nodded. "Go ahead and try. I'm curious to see what will happen."

Celandrenialinnefar lifted her hands in an overdramatic gesture and shouted forth a series of almost-impossible-to-pronounce syllables. She felt a mighty blast of power surge forth from her to the obdurate werewolf, to shatter the delusions and sorcery his dark master had laid upon him --

And _nothing_ happened. The huge wolf sat before her, unchanged. And most certainly unimpressed.

Celandrenialinnefar gaped in shock.

"Didn't work, did it?" This time, Draugluin didn't bother to hide his smirk, which was an odd expression on someone with a muzzle.

"How -- Why --?" Celandrenialinnefar couldn't even force out a coherent sentence.

"Kid, let me explain something to you." Draugluin lowered his huge head to her level, and glowered into her eyes. "I'm _not_ a man who's been turned into a wolf. I'm a demon in wolf form. If you'd read the book, you'd know that."

"Uh -- the book? You -- you -- you _know_ that you're in a book?"

"I can hardly help but know it, given all the fangirls we've been catching. Of course, most are after one of those goody-two-shoes Elven kings, like Finrod or Maedhros. Still, every now and then one who thinks it's cool to be Sauron's or Morgoth's daughter ends up in here. I've got to give you credit for originality, though. You're the first one who wanted _me."_

Celandrenialinnefar stuttered, "Y-you . . . you mean . . ."

"Who do you _think_ put that spell up on the Net for idiots like you to come across? My master's got some very strong magic. Morgoth's is even stronger. And food for a big army is hard to come by, especially if you're a Dark Lord who tends to turn your home base into a barren wasteland. At least it was until we made sure there'd be a constant supply of fangirls."

Celandrenialinnefar began to realize the magnitude of her mistake. She stepped back, took another step back, looking from left to right as the thought of escape replaced her notions of lupine romance.

"And one more thing, kid. Let me make this perfectly clear before I eat you, because villains are supposed to do that in stories: I am very happy with my job. Absolutely ecstatic, in fact. I'm feared and respected, the terror of my enemies, and well liked by my boss. I get to do my favorite things, like devouring helpless prisoners and sending out packs of ravening minions to tear innocent people limb from limb. That's why I took up Sauron's offer of employment in the first place. And where else could I eat this well?"

As Draugluin rose to his paws, Celandrenialinnefar screamed and turned to flee. He let her run three steps before leaping toward her.

Afterward, he had a new favorite bone.


End file.
